So many thanks must be heaped upon Austin-based artist Divya Srinivasan, whose incredible skills have yielded this gem. We had it printed up as our poster which we give out at live shows. Divya has animated videos for the likes of They Might Be Giants and Zero 7, as well as many others. We hope to work with her again in the future. Please trot over to her website and bask in its eye-pleasing warmth.

We enjoy music venues immensely. The sound systems are much more conducive to our brand of comedic pap than your average comedy venue, which usually has slightly better than a PA system that Guitar Center had in one of their you-can’t-miss-this-historic-blowout (yet bi-weekly) “sales.” This should be a fun show. I believe we get to do a long set, which is something LA doesn’t offer its comics all that often. I realize I already posted this two weeks ago and that the show info is clearly in the “Upcoming Shows” section, but I enjoy redundancy. It scratches that OCD itch in a satisfying way.

To learn more about OCD, visit your local library. Then find a light switch there and flick it on and off while counting to 8 repeatedly, or something bad will happen to you.

Having grown up in a bowling center the way I did, the son of a bowling legend as I am, I was thrilled at the prospect of performing comedy in a bowling center. Yes, “center” was carefully chosen vernacular—my dad always said “bowling alley” meant the place was a dive, “bowling center” meant “classy,” even though “classy” usually means “not classy.” Last night Mike and I performed at a “Bowling Uber-Center.” Lucky Strike Lanes is in the “I guess it’s a landmark” Hollywood/Highland complex and has a weekly comedy show on Tuesdays at 10pm. It is deftly run by comics Laura Valdivia and Sarah Tiana who were both funny and charming. The room was full of actual people who weren’t, themselves, comics—a nice bonus. If you’re looking for a free show in LA on a Tuesday night, this is a good choice. The flavor of the comedy is slightly different than Comedy Death Ray or See You Next Tuesday (our normal LA stomping grounds, both @UCB), drawing more from up and comers from the Comedy Store scene, with the occasional drop-in closer set from our good friend Ian Bagg.

I used to live and work in West L.A., so I’ve seen my unfair share of crazies and burn-outs—especially when I worked at the guitar shop. The gonest of all of them (even nuttier than the “Prussian Army Commander” who furiously argued (with no one) that he grew up with Bruce Jenner in our supply closet) was a chemical brother I call “The Damned Rambler”. I call him that because the only way I can make sense of his condition is to believe the following: that at some point, he was caught speaking ill of his god, who then punished him by making it so he could never ever stop talking. Ever. Not for a second. (Talk about a life sentence!) (Come on!)

While my good friend Leland stood behind the counter and nodded along politely (for 15 tragic minutes), I pretended to work, but really I was just scribbling as many things as I could make out. It was hard, trying to write while hypnotized. He didn’t stutter, there was no thinking, no searching for the right word. And what kinds of things did he say? This little bit won’t do it justice, but… lllllllet’s get rrrrready to rrrrrrramble!

“I took a bullet for Stevie Ray Vaughn…..I never get my gifts at all…..My sister’s a senator—you know her as ‘Susan Sommers’…..There’s a burial ground behind the library…..I didn’t rub many girls’ tummies…..He murdered someone in a mansion and got away with it and that’s a no-no…..I ran track against Huey Lewis and Tony Orlando…..Popped Tina at the Thunderdome and they said, ‘Don’t hit your wife’…..I was head surfer…..Kids on speed down at Havasu—they even scare the Indians…”

I’ll always wonder what would have happened if I had picked up a guitar and started casually playing Ramble On. Maybe it was a hidden camera show and I would have won.

In a mostly unrelated story, the last time I was in Westwood, a random homeless dude asked me for change. I gave him a quarter, and he said, “Perfect! That’s all I needed!” and ran off. That’s never happened.

Welcome to the second and final installment of our in-studio performance series on NPR. You can do anything, because this song says so. I have nothing else important to write here, so, go green, viral video, bring our boys home, boobs.http://www.hardnphirm.com/blog/FairGame2.mp3